


Cranked (To Full Blast)

by jazzy_yaku



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Warm Bodies Fusion, Angst, Apacolyptic Towns/Cities, Baby Momma Drama, Bonus Points If You Guess, But Does She Love Thomas?, But Not Newtmas Smut, Cabins, Character Death, Cranks Are Zombies, Death, Fluff, Gangs, His Blood Saves Newt, Irratic updates, M/M, Minho Is Badass, Newt Slowly Turns Human, No Legit Who Is Teresa In Love With, Or Long Ones I Cant Say For Sure, Possible smut, Probably Unaccurate Science Terms, Romance, Short Chapters, Slow Burn (kindof), Slow Updates, Teresa Is A Traitor, Teresa Is Pregnant, Thomas Is A Nature Freak, Thomas Is Also Immune, Thomas Is Stressed, Thomas Loves Birds, Thomas Loves Teresa, Violence, Whose Baby Is It?, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Newt, Zombies are Cranks, human thomas, newtmas - Freeform, relationship drama, robbers, so don't get excited, zombie gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzy_yaku/pseuds/jazzy_yaku
Summary: Newt repeats his montra in his head repeatedly, day by day.Until he bites THING, and he gradually remembers it all.He knows though - THING saved him.--Warm Bodies AU (Newtmas)





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! :).  
> Also, I dont know how to do italics on AO3, so thoughts are separated. You'll know, dont worry. 
> 
> Enjoy. 
> 
> (You dont need to have watched Warm Bodies to read the AU).

I am Newt. 

He shuffles along, listening to the others around him shuffle along. It's all they do nowadays; they shuffle along. 

I am Newt. 

He groans. They groan. It's an endless mix of groan, shuffle, groan, shuffle. Groan. Shuffle. Occassionally they shuffle, then groan. Sometimes they spit and shuffle. It's repetitive, but it's all he knows how to do. 

I am Newt. 

That damned mantra. The ever-repeated line that he said to himself. Occassionaly, he would open his mouth to speak it, his mantra, his telling, but his mouth never formed the words. He doubts the Others would understand it if he said it, anyway. They don't seem like they understand enough. 

I am Newt. 

He is walking, shuffling, in circles. Occassionally, he bumps into another. They groan at each other, and continue shuffling in their circles. 

He doesn't know what happens, all of the sudden it gets very, very dark. 

I am Newt.  
\--

The darkness eventually subsides, and the air around Newt feels hotter, causing his movements to slow. The Others are moving at a snails-pace, as the sun bores down on graying skin. 

Newt hates it when it gets hot. 

Others are moving just as slowly as him, groaning out in some sort of twisted anguish. Him and the Others don't understand why, but something about this light makes them antsy. Newt's circles take longer to complete, shuffling steps seeming to take a but more effort than the ones before it do. 

I am Newt. Right. Yes. Of course. 

Be it the heat, but the Others are louder today. Maybe they've gotten hungry. Newt himself feels the urge to eat. He must eat. 

He feels no hunger, but the urge to eat makes him snarl and smack his jaws against each other. He wants to eat - needs too - and his circles gradually begin to move faster. 

Except he isn't moving in those circles anymore: he's following the Others, as they follow thing. 

I am Newt. Eat. Thing. 

Him and Others pursue thing. 

It is the never ending chase.  
\---

Zombie AU? I think so.  
(Cover is subject to change)


	2. Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Long chapter readers beware.
> 
> Also, can someone tell me how the fuck to itlaicize and bold words on A03? Thank you if you do. The information is highly needed.

To put it simply, Aris had fucked up. Royally. 

If the pregnancy test in Teresa's hands wasn't evident, Aris wasn't sure what would be considered a fuck up at that point. 

"What do we do?" She breathes, not crying, not anything. "What do I tell-" 

"You don't." Aris responds, not wanting to hear the name drip from her lips and fill him with guilt. "You don't. We don't say a word." 

"But I can't just... hide it. Maybe now, but not later." She doesn't look scared, not worried. A little guilty, maybe, but Aris can't detect anything else from her. 

The plague had changed her. 

"He and Minho run this thing. They call the shots and always have. What do you think is going to happen to us if we say something?" Aris makes a point. Since Alby's injuries, Minho had stepped up and started his reign. "You know them. Where one goes the other will sure follow." 

"They wouldn't abandon us." Teresa sounds sure, yet her voice wavers a second later. "I would be pregnant. Am pregnant. They wouldn't dare abandon a pregnant woman."

"But what about me?" Aris breathes, voice angry and seething and aggravated for her not wanting to understand. "I have to save my ass, too. You know that. This is how we survive. I can't make it alone again." 

Teresa says nothing in response to that, and Aris chooses to take his leave in her silence.

"Not a word." He pauses in the doorway, and leaves without another word, in a march of fury that leaves the room feeling slightly hotter.   
\---  
"Minho, how many we got?" 

"A good twenty, I guess." 

A pause. "You guess? What the hell does that mean?" 

"It means you can fucking count them, asshole." A laugh, and then the reciever cuts off in a haze of static. 

"Fucking..." Thomas sighs. He is squatting, a pair of binoculars in one hand and the little pocket radio in the other, on the roof of the abandoned home. Falling through the caving roof is the least of his worries. 

The binoculars are excellent magnifiers, and they give Thomas' vision the extra boost it needs so that he can pinpoint how many Cranks walk the next gathering point. From the roof he has the leverage of height, and the Cranks he sees are hungry, a shuffling group that looks as it if they are waiting for the opportunity. 

He does a rough count, makes to twenty-one (take that, you squinty-eyed bastard) and let's out the breath he's been holding for the past few minutes. 

"Counted twenty-one." He speaks into his reciever. "Missed one." 

It cuts off for a few seconds before he receives a reply. "Fuck off. You probably double counted."

"Yeah, yeah. Weep and whine, weep and whine." Thomas bickers at first, though his next words are thick with seriousness. "We got a lot to think about now." 

"I know." Another pause, just as long as the first. "We should get moving back. This shit gives me weird feelings." 

The reciever is off now, and Thomas begins his down climb from the roof, glancing once more in the direction of the gathering point, dreading the idea of heading into it. Thomas couldn't agree more - the anticipation is dreadful, and borderline sinister. 

The trek back to camp takes him twenty minutes, less if he would've ran, but he enjoys the sights first. 

The thick treeline that protects the camp and separates from the neighborhood is never perfectly silent. Thomas appreciates it, as he hears the sounds of the undead too often. It's ironic, really, that he misses the sounds of the wildlife. 

A couple of birds twit about in the branches above him, though most of them are sure to opt for silence. He misses the loud sounds of large flocks of birds, the flocks that always flutter about in your backyard in the start of the warmer months, that annoy you then but you would give anything to hear it now. 

The twits of the birds is enough to distract him from what he really needs to think about - the idea of new life. These birds and the memory of them are not his biggest worry, and neither is the gathering of twenty-one Cranks at the gathering point. 

Him and Teresa should have been more careful. 

For the life of him, he atleast remembered the condomn, but the protection went as far as that. Teresa being pregnant was a terrifying thing, even more than him being twenty and a father. 

He hadn't meant to get her pregnant, no, things just happen that way. Happened that way. 

He couldn't imagine raising a child in a world like this one. Couldn't imagine it living with the dangers at every corner of it's mind. Thomas couldn't imagine his toddler eating off of rations, rationing baby food because the winter months led to scarcity. He couldn't imagine keeping the child quiet. 

Thomas sighs, listening to the bubbling of the small creek. It's more or less a stream of sorts, much less than the size of a creek, yet it's size compares nothing to it's importance. The creek offers water, and the water offers food. The creek itself is an indicator that he has roughly five minutes of travel left. 

It's a good thing the creek is plentiful this spring. Thomas doubts he could handle a drought on top of the rest of it. A drought and a baby? A drought, a baby, and Cranks? The creek is bound to dry by the end of spring, maybe it already has, it seems to Thomas that summer will hit earlier this year. 

Thomas makes a note to bring up water conservation in his chat with Minho.

He follows the creek for the rest of his trip, and approaches the cabin that serves as the camp. A couple of camping tents (a lucky find, really) sit around the cabin, a fire pit set in the middle of it. A picnic table off to the side sits on uneven legs, one of it's benches drooping downward. Teresa sits on the stronger side, giving Thomas a small smile when he approaches. 

"Find anything?" She asks, Thomas sitting next to her. 

"Not really. We need to think about how to clear a herd of twenty-some Cranks out of the point. Minho back yet?" 

"Inside, talking with Aris and them." She responds, her hand resting on Thomas' bicep. The touch itself soothes Thomas, allows his mind to rest and think as if the herd of Crank's doesn't matter. "Discussing what should happen next, of course. I just wanted to make sure you got back, too. You and Minho always race each other."

Thomas laughs, arm around her shoulder. "Not this time. Just wanted to enjoy the sounds, I guess." 

Teresa smiles, looking away from him. "Sounds like you, then." Thomas smiles back, but wonders why she won't look him in the eyes this time.   
\---  
They had let THING get away. Newt himself wondering around the porch, shuffling along the peeling planks awaiting THING to come out of hiding. 

'I am Newt.'

The Others shuffle about in different places, some opting to leave the porch and wonder around the property of the house. Those who don't walk with Newt, occasionally bumping a shoulder or two, awaiting the food to come out once more. Awaiting to resume the chase. 

Newt snaps his jaws in earnest. He wants to eat. Longs for a meal. He isn't hungry but instead the feeling is primal. His stomach hasn't rumbled sense he was alive. 

'I am Newt.' He tries to speak out again. Something in his brain urges him too, only those words don't come. The only thing that comes from him is the guttural groans from the back of his throat. Snapping his jaws, he stops trying. 

The anticipation given to him from THING has him restless. Snapping his teeth together he shakes his head, feeling antsy. Longing for the door to open again, he bangs into the side of the house a couple of times. To scare THING or to lure THING out he doesn't know for sure, just that the hunger is unbearable. 

Almost. The dead can't die twice. And the dead can't starve. 

'I am Newt.'

He walks against the house again, banging his shoulders into the brick, snapping his jaws and snarling from deep within himself. For the rest of the night he does this, and THING never comes out again.   
\---


End file.
